


Wellness.

by PerfectSilence (hitomishiga)



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/F, Past Relationship(s), Soulmate au with a twist I guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:47:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitomishiga/pseuds/PerfectSilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why does she keep getting dreams, about falling in love with someone she's never met?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take your time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _colours fade as i wait for you to come back to me_  
>  (you'll always be inside my head / i'll be waiting at the other end)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to ruin my life and write something and here it is and it wasn't meant to be like this but here we are. It was just meant to be a warmup.  
> Based on [this song](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=b7h8f8Xk7iE)

They say that green’s the last colour to go. Maybe that's right, Maki thinks, as she twirls a leaf between two fingers like a cigarette. Green. 

For some reason, she can only see in greens, browns, muted tones of blue. It's always like this. It's why she hates falling asleep. It's why she is so goddamn tired all the time. It's why everyone is telling her to just take some time, to just relax, to let your soul heal before the grey, Maki. 

Even though she's aware it's a dream, it's not real, she's still disappointed when there's no one around. Somehow, she feels so… There's not a word Maki knows to describe how she feels. Her heart, lodged squarely between her rib cage and her throat, a solid, unmoving lump, halts her breath. There's a whisper of a laugh. Somehow, Maki would call it a yellow sounding laugh. 

Bright yellow eyes in a world of grey. 

A sweet voice. 

Memories she's never had. 

Longing, that's the word she needed. 

She's someone else, now. Standing in a town that her brain tries to tell her is her own, but she knows she'll wake up and call it unfamiliar. Everything is green, but the most bizarre thing is herself, standing there, grey. 

“Wait for me.” Maki says.

“I will.”

“You aren't.” Maki says. 

“I am.”

In her room, she is relieved to find that that everything is its normal colour again. Not green. Somehow, that's the most pertinent issue on her mind. 

Groggily, Maki sits up, pushing aside the blankets. The alarm flashes in dull red. Nico’s black hair melds with the darkness of the grey sheets, under the moonlight. Her shifting wakes Nico, who doesn't even bother to open her eyes, instead acknowledging Maki’s presence with a groan. 

“Weird dream again?” Nico asks. She's intuitive. More than Maki. She's clever. More than even Maki. 

“Yeah.” Maki falls onto her toes and straightens her nightgown. “I'm going to get a drink.”

“Whatever,” Nico grumbles, “just don't fall asleep on the couch again.”

Maki stumbles her way out of the bedroom and out into the kitchen. The whole thing is quaint. Maki doesn't feel that crash hot about the place but it's not like she's ever had any better option. The refrigerator is humming, the only sound in the still darkness. Maki opens it, and let's the light from inside flood her senses. She has to squint, a bit, to see through it. 

At least that's something. 

Her eyes trailing over bottles upon bottles, empty milk cartons, leftovers from the night before last, Maki mentally picks through the colours she can see. White, grey, washed out browns that might have been reds, once, and green. Lots of green. 

Maki takes a green glass bottle (empty, but nonetheless-) and places it on the counter. In the darkness, colours are never quite as vibrant, is what she tells herself. 

“Colourless green…” She muses, resting her chin on her palm and faintly tracing over the lid of the bottle. It wobbles a bit, but rights itself. Green is such a nostalgic colour. Just like her colourless dreams, green but not green - it reminds Maki of ghosts, for some reason. 

She brings the bottle close. Her eyes reflect in the side, distorted. They aren't grey, yet. Doesn't mean people don't already know. 

She lets the bottle fall in the trash with a loud crash. From beyond, Nico shouts out in annoyance. No need to bother with that now. Instead, Maki throws open the doors to their balcony, lights a cigarette under the stars, listens to the faint tendrils of a radio from storeys above. The whole scene is very melancholy; but then, everything is more melancholy at night, even when there's nothing to be terribly melancholy about. Nico can't stand it when she smokes. 

Maki does end up sleeping on the couch after all. She dreams a colourless green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a warmup


	2. Evie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"[ all the sketches of our fates just don't align"](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=B32gOkYynDk)_

“Drawing again.”

Umis voice sounds almost… Disappointed. Disheartened? Kotori tries not to think on it too much. 

“Yeah,” she replies, scratching another line across the page, “it's… Therapeutic.”

She wishes she could know why Umi looks so pained, even as she smiles. 

“That's good.” Umi says. Lies. Kotori’s always been able to read Umi like an open book. “Do you think you're going to get back into sewing?”

“Sewing?”

Umi sucks in a breath and Kotori lapses. A mistake, then. This has been happening more and more lately. She doesn't understand what Umi wants from her. Why it still doesn't feel right. 

Or does it? Kotori’s never been in love before now, so how would she know?

Kotori’s scratchy sketching becomes more frenzied, lines embedding themselves so deeply in the paper that she can't erase them even with all her might. She clears a fresh new page under Umi’s decisively guarded stare. 

“Umi,” Kotori begins, but she loses sight of what she wants to say when Umi looks at her expectantly. Two eyes. A nose. A perfectly sculpted mouth, lips just barely set in a frown. A jawline as hard as marble. “... Nevermind.”

“Fumiko and the others invited you out again.” Umi says at length. Kotori almost doesn't hear, so wrapt is she in taking in Umi’s every detail. 

“They're here?”

“Yes,” Umi shifts slightly, “they came to visit you. They're only here a few days.”

Kotori doesn't miss the; _they came all the way here just for you_ , that Umi adds without speaking. It's more a bribe to get outside than anything. They both know that. Or at least, Kotori thinks they both do. 

She's missing something. 

“I'll - I'll make it this time.” Kotori assures Umi with a gentle, typical smile. Umi never smiles these days. Why is that? Why is Kotori not enough?

Or is it the other way around?

Kotori resumes her sketching, pencil treading paper as easily as a wheel across track. As easily as a wheel across track. As easily as -

“Kotori.” 

Her name snaps her out of it, and she looks down at her page. A mess. She turns the page once more. “Umi-chan.”

Umi looks wildly uncomfortable, then - the first time that day she's looked anything other than deathly ill. “Don't,” she chokes out, “don't call me that, remember.”

“O- of course.”

Kotori doesn't understand why Umi doesn't like the ‘-chan’ suffix to her name, but she doesn't press it. She's long since learned not to press things like this for the sake of her gentle, fragile balance. She doesn't mind feeling a little lost and unsure, so long as the people she holds dear are ok. 

(So long as she still has people to look after her, says a nasty voice in the back of her mind. So long as nothing changes. So long as she doesn't have the responsibility for the blame-)

“Please try and make it,” Umi is saying, her voice low. She's not normally so pushy, Kotori notes with interest. “You haven't spoken to anyone except me and your mother since the accident at all, and - they're worried about you. I'm-” she coughs, and continues, much lower than before, “- _I'm_ worried about you.”

Kotori feels something inside her jolt. It's the closest Umi’s ever come to saying _that_ since...well, since a long time. Or maybe it's the first time it's been so sincere. Those unshed, watery tears in Umi’s eyes - it's a welcome sight from the monotony from before. Kotori swallows down her doubts, refrains from mentioning the reason for her hesitance. It didn't go down well last time. 

“I said I'll make it this time, right?” Kotori cocks her head lightly, ushering Umi closer. “Why don't you trust me, Umi?”

“I do.”

“It doesn't sound like it.”

“ _Kotori._ ”

Kotori giggles, trying to lighten the mood. “Sorry.” She brings Umi’s fingers to her lips and presses a gentle kiss there. Routine. Like clockwork, Umi bends down and kisses Kotori’s forehead. How much of this is an apology, and how much of it is routine, she wonders?

Not that she would know anything about that. What’s routine for Umi is new for Kotori, everything she's known. Everything else feels so far away she's not even sure it's real. Those memories... Was it yesterday? The day before? Not at all? Perhaps.

Life was full of ‘perhaps’. 

Umi gasps, subtly, a small intake of breath against Kotori’s ear. “What is it?” She asks, resting her pencil on the bridge of her palm. Umi shakes a little, like a tree swaying with the wind, but that's all. 

“N- nothing…” Umi's voice seems to get lost somewhere between her throat and her tongue, drifting off into space like the rest of her. “I- I need to go. I have-”

“Work, yeah, I know.” Kotori waves her off with a gentle smile, a gentle, loving smile that she hopes says talk to me and I love you more than anything else. More than confusion, more than longing, more than I miss you.

Once Umi’s gone, Kotori looks down at the page. She’s sketched a figure, one she’s finally happy with. It’s something that’s been on her mind for a long time. Forever. A lone figure, a girl, but only from behind. Kotori can never quite muster the courage to try and draw the face. It never feels quite right. Like she’s missing a piece of the puzzle. Like it’s a far off dream that she’s forgotten. The only thing Kotori can remember is short, shoulder-length hair, and for some reason, beautiful hands; long, pianist fingers lightly curled around a lock of hair.

She feels kind of guilty, and tries to scratch in more hair, so she can pretend it’s Umi. It doesn’t work, somehow.

_If only you were real_ , Kotori catches herself thinking before she can stop. It eats away at her gut with guilt, shame. Why can't she just be happy with what she has?


	3. Karma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __  
>  [i don't want to say goodbye / cause i need you in my life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cXLVxV1x7Pk)   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why did this take so long ᕕ(ツ)ᕗ

Nico's in charge of Morale. Not exactly the most flattering of jobs. Not exactly the kind of job to write home about. But it's important, and she's good at it. And that's why she knows there's something up with Maki before even the hospice.

In this town full of drabness and dullness, overcrowded and stagnant, it's so easy to just stop moving forward. Nico will never let that happen. Not to her, not to Maki. 

They've just started living together. Maki gave up her old home a while ago to an elderly couple and since Nico lives so close to the hospital, it's more a matter of convenience than anything. Maki smokes, unfortunately, but she's kind enough to keep it to the balcony. Other than that, the company is surprisingly quiet, considering their rough start. Misaki still thinks they're dating, somehow. Maybe it's because Nico feels the need to look out for Maki so much. 

Maki’s only been here a short while. She's still an outsider, which, while not uncommon in a town such as this, is still pretty shitty. Nico would know. She's a long-term resident (plans to keep it that way) but she can still remember her first few months. Terrible. 

She'd never been at such a risk of going _grey_ , though. 

Suddenly, the thought comes to her that she probably forgot to turn the gas off before she left, and she whips out her phone to send a little text Maki’s way. _If you get home early could you turn the gas off. Left it on. Be home late. Xoxo._

Nico slips her phone back into her pocket and looks back up at the sea of greys. About a dozen, maybe more. Grey, dull eyes staring into space. They're beyond help, she knows, but she can't not try. She can't not move forward. She can't turn out like Maki. She kneels before a child, clasps their hands. 

“Hello,” she says in her cheeriest voice, “I'm Nico. What's your name?”

They look up from under dirty brown hair, specks of gold still behind those slate grey eyes. Their mouth moves. No sound. 

“This one’s Leo, according to the database,” Tsubasa pipes in from a distance, where she sits, plugging in number and data into a computer. The easy job. “Recent, but - an enigma. Still responsive, but drained. Therapy obviously hasn't worked, obviously, and they're too young to get a job and earn any soulstuff.”

Nico turns her gaze towards Leo. “Still responsive, huh.” She murmurs, clasping her hands tighter. An idea springs to mind. “Hey, Leo? Can you hear me? Squeeze if you can hear me.”

A light, very light squeeze. 

“That's good! That's good!” Nico grins her famous grin, feeling a spark of hope ignite in her chest. “Ok, squeeze left for yes, ok? And right for no. Got that?”

Leo’s gaze flickers. Halts. Restores itself. They shakily move their left hand. It's all Nico needs. 

“Tsubasa,” she says, pulling Leo off the chair and flagging down the statician’s attention, “I'm taking Leo backstage, so..?”

“Got it,” Tsubasa replies, “I'll send Chika in in a moment.”

Nico pushes past the nurses and therapists and shuffling, souldead zombies to the back room, Leo in tow. She's so selfless. Such a paragon of virtue, helping these poor souls. (It pays the bills.)

(When did she get so cynical? Maybe she's been hanging out with Maki too much.) 

In the back room, there are two chairs, a small mirror on a dresser, blackout curtains all around. When the door closes, it's oddly quiet. They hardly use this room. They hardly need to. But Nico sees potential in Leo - a soul that can still be saved. A soul… Very familiar. Scarily familiar. 

“Ok, Leo,” Nico says in her most pleasant tone, “we’re doing good so far. Do you know where you are?” A squeeze. “Do you know why you're here?” Another. “Ok, I'm just gonna run a few tests through, is that alright?”

It continues like this. Leo is mostly responsive, but a little blank. Their soul count is in the single digits, but that can be easily remedied. 

“Alright, I'm gonna process you through for a doseage of - ah, maybe we’ll start low, anything too high isn't likely to get processed at this point…” Nico trails off as Leo suddenly, inexplicably, snaps their head up. Eyes roll, like a wild animal. Unseeing. Limbs spasm. Nico has to physically hold Leo’s shoulders to stop them from taking off. Alarm bells ring in her head, overwhelming her senses, knocking out all other thoughts. Muscle memory acts, and she watches as Leo’s erratic movements slowly calm into the regular, sluggish movements from before. It's like -

It's like when Maki wakes up from a nightmare in the middle of the night, muttering and sweating something about _her_. Leo is muttering too, and it's the first time Nico has heard their voice. It's soft, quiet. Accented in a way completely unfamiliar. 

"Yukari," they say, "Yukari."

Nico has absolutely no idea what to do.

“Hey, it's ok - Leo, listen, it's ok. Do you know where you are?” Nico slowly pats Leo's head, brushing back unruly hair. All as familiar. All as is familiar, as always, as ever. Leo nods against her collarbone. “We're gonna help you, alright? Alright?”

Leo nods, and it fills Nico with such hope. Like a candle in her chest. And maybe it's selfish, and more than a bit poetic, but she's kind of hoping that, one day, she'll be able to get Back. And this is some sort of karmic retribution for her sins in another life. She just has to keep moving forward. Keep the research going. Dr Yazawa, he knows what he's doing, Nico trusts him, somehow. 

She trusts that he can get Leo back on track. Give a soul to the soulless. 

"This is not going to hurt a bit, I promise," Nico says, taking a small needle from the tray and, carefully, jabbing it into Leo's arm. They jerk, and then, stillness. Unnerving stillness. Nico checks just to make sure they're still breathing. "That'll do it. You'll be fine, I promise."

Even though she feels her stomach plummet three stories below the ground, Nico stays positive; at least she's feeling _something_.


End file.
